OUTWORLD: IN SUSPENDED ANIMATION Pt. 11

OUTWORLD: IN SUSPENDED ANIMATION

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Suzie Trask (female Border Collie, age 25)
Kate Holloway (female Jack Russell, age 17)
Calvin Symington (male Coyote, age 29)
Brenda Olsen (female Husky, age 25)

CARGO SHIP ATC BERNADETTE, DATE, TIME AND PRESENT LOCATION UNKNOWN

As Calvin strode off, Suzie pelted up the gangway and scrambled up the ladder back to the crew deck. She could already hear voices and the thudding of boots as she poked her head up from under the ladder hatch and looked about; the alarms had been deactivated. There was also the thick stench of white-hot hull metal and melted interior materials, definitely a result of the hull cutter Brenda had been talking about. This lot would have to be insane to bore right through the hull!
 Maybe they were.
 She started as her eyes came to rest on a pair of booted feet not three inches from her nose. She fought the urge to slide back down; the hatch would bang shut if she did. She had no choice but to wait. She could make out the owner of the feet speaking, which was easier said than done with the hatch pressing on her poor ears.
 Her nose picked up more of that flamethrower plasma, as well.
 “Where’re the other security guys?” he was growling; he sounded canine. “All we came up against was that Husky.”
 “I can’t get Hennessy or Benton on the comm,” another was saying. “Think they’re having trouble with the rest of the security detail?”
 “Good thing we got into two teams,” yet another said. “That idiot Hennessy wanted us all going in through the cargo way.”
 “Screw ‘em,” the nearest one replied dismissively. “Let’s go grab Yeardley and Penn ourselves. They’re taking too long in any case.”
 “What about Mounder?” asked a third.
 “Yeardley said not to bother with her if we don’t feel like it. I don’t. We’ll go get them and see if we can check in with Hennessy after. Ferris, Lotta, you go check down below. If you see any security guys, you know what to do. We’ll load the crates ourselves if we have to.” The feet nearest her left, along with some of the others. Two pairs remained and began to walk towards the hatch.
 Suzie’s heart beat like a drum. ‘That Husky’ - Brenda! What had they done to her?
 The feet were coming her way. She had seconds, she knew, before they would be coming down.
 She thought of Brenda, and her rifle came up. Two shots blew the hatch off its bolts, and a heave from Suzie sent it upwards – right into the legs of the approaching attackers. One, a slight female Coyote whom Suzie assumed to be Lotta, yelped and tripped, her flamethrower clattering away and out of reach. The other, a burly Fox, shoved his bumbling comrade aside and opened fire; he would have hit Suzie, except for the fact that the hatch lid was now airborne and coming straight at his face. It knocked him senseless and sent him sprawling across the nearest bulkhead.
 Lotta was scrambling about on the deck to reclaim her weapon; Suzie was on her in an instant and hauling Lotta to her feet. “What are you doing?” the Coyote yowled.
 “What did your buddies do to ‘that Husky’?” Suzie hissed, all the while jabbing her gun into the small of Lotta’s back.
 Lotta squirmed. “I’m not telling you anything.”
 “Okay,” Suzie said wearily. She’d about had enough of this crap. She wrapped her arm around Lotta’s neck and forced her towards the crew lounge, the rifle still shoved into her back. “Show me, then.”
 Lotta whimpered. “They killed her.”
 Suzie faltered. Somehow she’d expected it. But to hear it was something else. No. This little mutt had to be lying. She had to be. “Don’t play with me.”
 “I’m not,” Lotta said vehemently. “Don’t shoot me, please.”
 “Shut up,” Suzie snapped. “You really think your whining is going to influence me?”
 “I told you what happened to your friend!” Lotta squealed.
 “I said shut up!” Suzie barked. “No, wait!” Something sparked in Suzie’s mind. These guys seemed dead set on getting Yeardley and Melvin Penn out of here. Why? “What do you lot want with Captain Garrison Yeardley? You take hostages?”
 “They’re not hostages,” the sniffling Lotta said. “We’re extracting them.”
 Suzie frowned into the back of Lotta’s head. “What? Then what are they?” She gave the rifle another shove.
 “Yeardley set this up!” Lotta wailed. “Penn too – they’re our agents.”
 Suzie’s head was beginning to spin. She’d known there was something about that Melvin. “What’s this all about?”
 “The food,” Lotta gasped; Suzie’s arm had rather violently constricted around her throat. “It’s about the food.”
 “You guys want to eat, you go to Milk Maid Mary’s and get a burger,” Suzie growled through her teeth. “You don’t raid a ship!”
 “It’s not like that,” Lotta said.
 “Like what, then?” Suzie asked pointedly.
 Lotta never got another word out. A weapon’s report and a thin spurt of blood from her forehead told Suzie everything she needed to know. She dropped the Coyote like laundry and looked up to see a recently-defrosted Garrison Yeardley staring right at her, a rifle in his paws and now pointed at her chest. Behind him stood Melvin Penn and the rest of the boarders, all with weapons raised.
 “Well,” the Wolf said conversationally. “Isn’t this nice?”
 “Oh, fuzz butt,” Suzie muttered.

-END OF PART 11-